


Wake Up Dreaming

by The_Wandering_Quill



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU where everyone lives, AU where the Holy Grail Wars don't exist, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fate Zero cafe references, Multi, Other, Saber/Iri is endgame, arranged marriage between Kiritsugu and Iri, because this is the only way everyone can be happy and alive, magic doesn't exist but maybe reincarnation does if you really want
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4906168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wandering_Quill/pseuds/The_Wandering_Quill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All the world's a stage, and most of us are desperately unrehearsed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own _Fate/Zero_ , and the use of "Wart" as Arthur's childhood nickname belong's to T. H. White in his _The Once and Future King_. 
> 
> Might change the summary at a later point - I didn't actually give much thought to a summary for this fic...Oh, well. 
> 
> I may have left the fandom in general, but I can't help coming back to this old OTP of mine. Especially since there still aren't that many fics for it out there...Also placing this in a modern AU because it's a nice change of pace to all of the usual Grail Wars and stuff...And everyone lives, too. I also highly recommend you listen to [Ryan Star's "Start a Fire"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVR_492W32c) while reading, since that's the song that plays while they're dancing, and it kinda describes parts of their relationship's progression and whatnot. 
> 
> **WARNINGS:** Copious amounts of kisses, angst lurking in the background, all the cheese I can find, references to T. H. White’s _The Once and Future King_ for Arturia’s childhood nickname, and Alexander being nosy.

* * *

**Part 1** \- _Kindling_

* * *

 

When Alexander pulled up in front of the manor to the ghastly tune of a familiar, run-down truck, she knew she would find no peace tonight.

“Arty!” he bellowed, voice easily carrying across the courtyard as he rattled the manor’s gates with his fists. “Arturia Pendragon, I know you’re home! It’s a Friday night—where else would you be?”

_At my desk, doing paperwork. Like_ you _should be doing._  Arturia sighed heavily, setting her papers down as she stood up to walk over to the window she had opened earlier in the day. She paused, hands on the windowsill, and gazed out the courtyard to see the mountainous redhead standing behind the gates with that horrid truck of his parked on the curb.

Alexander must have spotted her, for he suddenly waved both of his hands like a madman, and the broad grin on his face was easily discernible even from this distance. He wore a white T-shirt that accentuated his absurd muscles, and dark jeans—combined with the truck that usually spelled trouble…this could only mean one thing.

Arturia promptly shut her window and drew the curtains closed, turning sharply on her heel back to the paperwork waiting for her.

She didn’t have much time left.

To the young CEO, it scarcely felt like a minute had passed before a knock sounded on the door to her study. Not taking her eyes off of the papers before her, the blonde grunted an affirmative, and the door opened a moment later to admit her butler.

“Pardon the intrusion, Miss Pendragon,” she heard Lucan say, “but Mr. Brankovich is at the gates and requests your immediate presence.”

_I know that._  “Tell Mr. Brankovich—“

“King of Knights! So help me, I will climb over this gate! Your pathetic defenses will be no match for me!” Alexander thundered from outside, voice now muffled by the closed window and curtains, but just loud enough for them to make out his words.

_God above, he’s resorted to using the moniker…_

Arturia heaved another sigh, setting her papers back down and standing up from her desk. She brushed past Lucan and strode briskly through the manor, eventually reaching the front double doors. The blonde threw them open with both hands, a loud ‘bang’ echoing into the night as the doors ricocheted off of the manor’s walls from the force of her push. By that time, Arturia had already gone down the stone steps, passing by the ostentatious fountain her late father had commissioned in the center of the courtyard as she followed the cobblestoned path to her destination.

She stopped, merely sighing for the third time that night at the sight of Alexander precariously balanced at the top of the gates.

“I warned you I would climb over!” the red-haired giant laughed, dropping down the rest of the way. He landed on his feet—Arturia swore the ground cracked a little from the impact—and when he stood back up, he easily dwarfed her with his size, so that her head barely came up to his chest.

Briefly, she considered repealing the order for security to treat him as an honored guest.

“What do you want?” the blonde asked, direct and to the point as she craned her neck to look up at him, crossing her arms with a frown. “No doubt you’ve already disturbed what few neighbors I have with your shouting. Surely a simple call or text on the phone would’ve sufficed?”

“Nope! A matter of this importance requires a meeting face-to-face!” Alexander declared, placing his hands on his hips as he grinned down at her. Said grin immediately dropped into what could be interpreted as a pout. “Oi, Arturia…what’s with the suit?”

Arturia blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. She briefly glanced down to assess her black suit and loafers—finding nothing wrong, she brought her gaze back up to meet his, frown deepening. “What’s wrong with my suit?” she asked, unable to help but tug self-consciously at her black tie.

“Fashionable it may be, it’s not entirely appropriate for what I have in mind,” the man grumbled, crossing his tanned arms over his muscled chest. “You should change. Or at the very least, lose the jacket and tie.”

Arturia’s voice was wry as she held a hand to her forehead, as if to ward off an impending headache. “And what, pray tell, do you have in mind?”

She already had an idea of what he was planning; asking was but a mere formality.

“We’re going to the city for a night of fun, of course!” Alexander exclaimed, a grin taking over his face once more. “If you go out like  _that_ , you’ll stick out like a sore thumb, Arty!”

_And…there it is._

“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I still have some paper— _Hey!_  U-Unhand me, you brute!”

Arturia struggled to free herself as a fierce blush rose to her cheeks, but it was of no use. Her feet dangled at least a foot off the ground, futilely kicking at air as Alexander lifted her higher by the back of her jacket until she was at eye-level.

“C’mon…I hear that deal you’re working on isn’t due for another week,” he said, grin widening despite her scowl.

“And  _I_  hear you have one due in three days!” the blonde countered, trying to grab at his throat. “Shouldn’t you be working as well? This is no time to slack off!”

Alexander easily moved her out of strangling range as he laughed loudly into the night. “All in due time, King of Knights! Now come, let loose and have fun for once!”

“Why am I even friends with you again?” Arturia grumbled, making a last ditch attempt to break free from his hold and failing miserably. Her shoulders finally slumped as she ceased her struggles, opting to moodily glare at the giant.

“Because I’m  _fun_ , and you’re  _no_   _fun_. Opposites are drawn to each other, after all,” the redhead cheekily replied. “Now swear, by your honor, that you’ll join me in my revelry?”

“First, I need to know the terms of this ‘revelry’ of yours,  _King of Conquerors_ ,” Arturia hissed out, crossing her arms despite the awkward position of hanging by her suit jacket. “If it displeases me, I will be willing to discuss compensation.” 

_Two can play at the moniker game._

“A club,” Alexander stated simply, as if he had suggested a walk in the park instead. “Rather low-key so the media won’t find us, and it’s not one of those really loud bass-thumping types. Though their music  _is_  energetic enough for dancing.” He arched a bushy red eyebrow, grin shifting to more of a smirk. “Sometimes they even play slower songs—perfect for if you find the right partner.”

Arturia’s scowl deepened. “I can’t dance.”

And right away, she knew she should have said something else; should have declared she had no need for relationships with the burden of CEO already on her young shoulders. But really, his talk of dancing and songs had been closer to the forefront of her mind, so Arturia couldn’t be  _fully_  blamed for mixing up her priorities.

Though it’s not like she hadn’t entertained the idea once or twice before…

“W-Wait, I—“

“Ha-ha! So you wouldn’t be  _entirely_  opposed to tonight’s distraction, eh?” Alexander teased, immediately pouncing on the opportunity she had foolishly provided for him. “If your ability to dance is your only cause for concern, then there’s nothing to worry about! Hardly anyone truly dances at these things anyway!”

“Alex, n-not so loud!” Arturia hissed, cheeks burning anew as the man carelessly proclaimed her shortcomings to the world. “Would it kill you to keep your voice down  _for once?_ ”

He brought her closer so their faces were mere inches apart, smirking in smug satisfaction. “Swear, on your honor, that you’ll go with me to the club for some fun? And at least  _try_  to relax? If you agree, I’ll stop causing a public disturbance in front of your manor.”

_Oh,_  now  _he chooses to lower his voice…Damn him!_  “Agreed,” she irritably ground out, emerald eyes narrowing, “I, Arturia Pendragon, rightful heir to Uther Pendragon, do hereby swear on my honor as head of my house—“

“And your title!”

“—and my honor as the ‘King of Knights’,” the blonde added with a roll of her eyes, “to the agreement of your terms.”

Alexander’s smirk had grown. Arturia stared expectantly at him.

_“Alex!”_

“Fine, fine…I promise to uphold my end of the bargain as well,” the redhead said with frustrating nonchalance, waving his free hand dismissively.

_You could have at least tried to be more serious about this…_

“…Will you let go of me now?”

* * *

“For someone who insisted I change into something more ‘club-appropriate’, you didn’t exactly give me time to do so…” Arturia mused, a smirk curling onto her lips as Alexander hunched his shoulders, frowning at the road as he drove. 

It was a rather petty attempt at payback, but she’d take what she could get at this point.

“Hmph. I was riding on my euphoric high after Arty the Grump agreed to go clubbing,” the redhead grumbled, frown shifting into more of a pout instead. “I think I can be forgiven for being  _a little_  over-eager to get this show on the road.” Red eyes flicked over to briefly meet hers, narrowing. “Like I said earlier, just lose the jacket and tie and you should be fine. Maybe roll up your sleeves while you’re at it.”

Arturia crossed her arms, smirk growing ever so slightly. “And what if I don’t want to?”

“Ah, you see…that’s where your little oath comes in,” Iskandar said, perking up again as a grin rose to his face. “You swore you’d at least  _try_  to have fun tonight. You can’t very well do that if you’re more dressed for a meeting with executives rather than classy clubbing, in your case.”

His grin widened. “Come to think of it, I might have another T-shirt in the backseat—“

_“Don’t you dare,”_  Arturia hissed, already unbuttoning her blazer. The alternative would be far more hellish than if she just gave in to his suggestions. Maneuvering around her seatbelt, she managed to take off the jacket; neatly folding it and reaching for the glove compartment…

“I detest this deathtrap of yours. Month-old food isn’t helping your case in the slightest.”

“You may have mentioned that once or twice before,” Alexander chuckled as he switched lanes. They both pointedly ignored the violent shudder of the truck’s engine. “Just set it on the dash if you’re  _that_  disgusted.”

Arturia laid it on her lap instead, resolving to leave it on her seat later—as much of a mess the rest of the vehicle’s interior was, Alexander at least kept the seats clean. Now left with her dark gray dress shirt, black vest and tie, she admitted she looked more casual than before. Sighing, she began rolling up her sleeves to further the look.

“And the tie?” she heard Alexander ask, just as she felt his horrible truck make a turn.

“I’m keeping it.”

“Damn it, Arty! At least loosen it,” he groaned, followed by an audible ‘smack’ as his palm briefly met his forehead.

Grudgingly, Arturia did just that—even undoing the topmost button of her shirt to make it look more casual. She could almost imagine the smirk on Alexander’s face as the redhead pulled into a parking spot.

“Nice foresight. I was  _just_  going to suggest that.”

“Not another word on my appearance, Alex. This is as far as I’m willing to go for tonight,” Arturia growled, tossing her blazer onto her vacated seat as she swung open the truck’s door. She  _may_  have slammed it with more force than necessary as Alexander got out as well, crossing her arms as she waited on the sidewalk for him to join her.

“Yes! Now  _that’s_  what I’m talking about!” the giant exclaimed once he had a chance to properly appraise her ‘new’ look, grinning broadly. “Still fashionable, but far more appropriate for a club than before.”

“Let’s just get this night over with,” Arturia grumbled, motioning for him to lead the way.

They must have made a strange sight upon entering the club, given their opposite styles of dress, for more than one pair of eyes had regarded them with interest. The blonde’s ears grew hot when she noted that several women were glancing at her appreciatively. And if it weren’t for the somewhat-dim lighting, she could have sworn one of them had even dared to give her a wink.

…Though that could just be Alexander standing next to her—muscles certainly were a thing, weren’t they?

As promised—oddly enough—the club  _wasn’t_  a chaotic mess of writhing bodies, epilepsy-inducing lights, and music so loud it would be impossible to hear one’s own thoughts in the din. It still had energy, of course—if the state of the dancefloor and DJ’s station was of any indication—but the classier bar and booths tucked to the left of the club seemed to temper it; keeping it from devolving into anarchy like the clubs that first sprung to Arturia’s mind.

“Hmph. Who would have thought?” she mused to herself, noting that even the music had far more variety than she had expected.

Alexander must have heard her anyway, for he laughed, giving her a hearty pat on the back that nearly sent her flying forward.  _Honestly, it’s like he doesn’t even know his own strength sometimes_ , Arturia inwardly griped as he led her over to the bar, easily slipping past other club-goers.

“It’s the smaller size,” the redhead explained once they seated themselves on an open pair of stools. “You have enough people for fun, but not  _too_  many that you can’t even hear yourself think. Drinks are slightly more refined and varied since you’re not catering as heavily to the generic swill most of the masses consume at bigger clubs.” He waved a hand, trying to catch the bartender’s attention from the other end of the counter. “It’s obvious how much the owner cares and wants to make  _everyone’s_  experience enjoyable. Thought this place would be great for you, considering your line of work.”

Arturia chuckled, secretly touched by Alexander’s thoughtfulness. “I’m just the CEO—“

“Ah, don’t think I don’t know about that one café you personally manage from time to time.  _Secretly,_  I might add,” he quickly countered, lowering his hand upon seeing the bartender acknowledging their presence with a nod. “Loathe as I am to admit it, you’re better at evading the media than I am…in more ways than one. Without the truck to throw them off, it usually doesn’t take them long to tail me when I go out.”

“That’s because your usual ‘ride’ is loud and ostentatious—almost enough to rival my cousin’s tastes, or that idiotic Gil,” the blonde sighed. “Besides  _that_ , most people aren’t giants like you are. Though someone  _is_  bound to recognize us here at some point.”

“As if a night out like this would adversely affect my company,” Alexander scoffed, grinning as the bartender headed towards them. “And at least for yours, it will show you’re not  _entirely_  a stiff.”

“I have an image to maintain—“

“And to hell with that image tonight!” the redhead thundered, throwing his head back in a laugh. “Tonight, you’re just ‘Arturia’. ‘Arty’, if you want. Hah! Even ‘Wart’ if—“

Arturia’s cheeks blossomed with heat, and the tips of her ears felt like they were on fire at the mention of the childhood nickname given to her by Merlin, an old family friend of the Pendragons.

_“No!”_  she immediately yelped, like a puppy that had been kicked. “No! Not…not ‘Wart’.”

Alexander arched a fiery brow at that, grin shifting into a smug smirk. “Oh? Are you sure? Because you’re acting an awful lot like—“

“So, what can I get for you two?” the bartender asked, and the blonde audibly sighed in relief at the fortuitous timing of his arrival. Leaving the giant to deal with ordering their drinks, Arturia opted to turn around on her stool, casting a curious gaze in the direction of the dancefloor. Some song that sounded like it would be popular on the radio was playing, and there was a sizeable gathering out there. Couples, singles, friends out for a night of fun…

“Mastika for me, and ale for you,” Alexander chuckled, nudging her shoulder with his elbow to get her attention. “Loosen yourself up with some liquid courage, and all.”

Arturia took the offered drink, not even bothering to turn back to the counter as she continued observing the club’s other patrons. “Is this the finest they have?” the blonde asked, holding the glass to her lips.

“Supposedly. Mine actually isn’t half bad,” she heard him say, followed by the sound of a glass thumping against the counter as he set his drink down. She honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had already finished his drink, and judging by his call for a refill, that seemed to be the case.

She took a sip.

“Hm…could be better.”

“It’s ale, what would you expect?” Alexander teased, and she had half a mind to punch him on the arm when something caught her attention.

Or rather, some _one_.

There was a gap amidst the dancing throng of people, affording her a glimpse of a stunning woman with impossibly white hair. She was dressed somewhat modestly in pinks and whites, the broad smile on her face visible even from the bar as she danced without a care in the world, without thought to jerking limbs and swaying hips. Her body moved fluidly in time to the music playing, and the energy resonating from her was damn near infectious.

The song changed, and eyes opened to reveal the richest shade of crimson Arturia had ever seen.

Somehow…that gaze met hers.

…Only for the gap to close as a group of college-aged patrons moved across the floor, their dancing hiding the woman from view.

Arturia belatedly noticed how her grip had tightened on her glass.

_…What is wrong with me?_

With an inward shake of her head, she raised the drink to her lips, intending to at least have another sip before berating Alexander…when the gap suddenly appeared again, the group from before having moved on.

The woman was still dancing—albeit in a slower fashion—but that red-eyed gaze was now fixed in the blonde’s direction.

And Arturia’s throat immediately ran dry.

_Me…?_

All thoughts ground to a screeching halt when the woman’s lips curled into a smirk, pausing in her dancing to extend a hand with the index finger curling, beckoning the young CEO closer. Out of anyone in the club, out of any of the patrons nearby—

“Hm? Arturia?”

_“_ _So wake up, wake up dreaming…”_

Arturia was only vaguely aware that she had set her glass down on the counter, nearly leaping off of her stool in her haste.

_“…and lie here with me.”_

The blonde strode purposefully through the crowd, only to falter at the edge of the official dancefloor.

This was foolishness. This was insanity. She should have drunk more of her ale, at least. Because  _damn it all_ , her nerves were failing under the lights and the sudden, acute awareness of the people around her.

_“Wake up, wake up dreaming…”_

And suddenly the woman was  _right there_ , with a bright smile curving onto her lips. And Arturia could only stare like an idiot, realizing that since she had gone and botched her original plan, the woman had approached  _her_  instead. A giggle reached her ears despite the music, and she found her face flushing at the sound. 

“Hi.”

_“…and lie here with me.”_

“H-Hello.”

She was heir to the Pendragon name and fortune—through her trials, she had developed her skills in the art of diplomacy and quelling chaos. She had stared down men twice her size in conference rooms, voice firm and proud as she asserted her right as CEO of the Pendragon Corporation. There were those that had thought a mere woman incapable of holding such a position—especially one as young as her—but they each had tasted her metaphorical blade; discovered that she indeed wielded both bark and bite.

And suddenly, the surety and eloquence Arturia had prided herself on in those corporate dealings utterly vanished at the sheer  _warmth_  held in that crimson gaze.

The music swelled with the chorus, and the woman resumed her energetic dancing, albeit not  _quite_  as freely as before she had spotted Arturia. The blonde, for her part, still stood there like a gob-smacked fool. Words failed her, her body refused to move, guilt slowly curled around her throat…

But even so, the woman kept their gazes locked; the smile never leaving her face as she danced with an ease that had the small part of Arturia  _not_  wracked with nerves flaring with envy.

Hands reached for her own as the chorus gave way to the next verse, and the blonde nearly jumped in surprise when cool fingers entwined with hers. The woman’s smile faltered a little, growing shy.

“Dance with me?”

The question coaxed Arturia out of her paralyzed state, but her cheeks flared anew. The answer was obvious, of course. Had she been a greater fool, perhaps she would’ve even blurted it out unthinkingly.

“I-I can’t…I can’t dance.”

At least in this way, she had  _some_  modicum of dignity left.

“’Can’t?’” the woman echoed, taking a step closer, “Or you haven’t tried?”

Arturia lowered her gaze. “I-I…That is…A little bit of both?”

Another giggle reached her ears, prompting her to look up once more. The woman’s smile had returned to its original force, eyes crinkling with equal parts amusement and mischief as she teased, “Are you asking me? Or telling me?”

And Arturia could only stare.

“Come on.” A gentle tug on her hands, grip loose enough that she could leave if she truly desired to; that it wasn’t too late to walk away. The choice was hers, and the white-haired beauty before her knew it.

“I’ll help you, I promise.”

And suddenly, she wasn’t ‘Arturia Pendragon’ anymore.

‘Arturia Pendragon’, one of the most powerful individuals in the world—bred for greatness, heir to an ancient house, and bearing the lonesome mantle of CEO _and_  Chairwoman upon her shoulders. ‘Arturia Pendragon’, who detested shady dealings and blackmail, and saw turning back on one’s oath as the gravest of offenses. ‘Arturia Pendragon’, who worked tirelessly to replace each of the corrupt members on her father’s board with those who shared her ideals of honesty and noble practices.

In that moment, she wasn’t ‘Arturia’, either.

‘Arturia’, whose voracious appetite could rival ten men on her best day; whose greatest pride of all lay in her fencing skills. ‘Arturia’, who fell in love with their family’s heirloom ever since she first laid eyes on it at the tender age of five. ‘Arturia’, who devotedly polished and maintained the sword over the years until Excalibur’s blade shone just as proudly as the gleam in her eyes when she won her first tournament.

She wasn’t even ‘Arty’.

‘Arty’, the nickname that had started off as a joke from Alexander until it just…stuck. ‘Arty’, who found time to relax every once in a while. ‘Arty’, who loved books just as much as that oaf, and found fresh pages to be among the most pleasant scents in the world. ‘Arty’, who secretly managed a small café under the Pendragons’ reach in an effort to understand the lowest members of their corporation; who only started doing so after a particularly vicious accusation that bit deeper than she had thought.

Right now, she was—

_“Wake up, wake up dreaming…and lie here with me.”_

She tried to move her body, tried to mimic the woman’s movements, which had been simplified enough for her to follow as the music swelled once more. Her palms grew clammier under that patient gaze, those lips quirked into an encouraging smile.

For the first time in so long…she was ‘Wart’ again—trying desperately to please, and bumbling her way through unfamiliar ground.

Her hands clutched tighter at the woman’s own as the tips of her ears burned with shame at her fumbling. Her pride must have been lost somewhere back at the bar as she allowed herself to be led along, to be taught something that seemed so basic, so  _natural_ , given the sheer number of people capable of doing so right now.

The woman suddenly took another step closer, forehead leaning against hers as the richest crimson in the world filled her vision. The sight helped temper her nerves a little for some odd reason, and she found herself fascinated by the faint flecks of gold in them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask before, but…what’s your name?” her partner asked as they continued dancing, albeit slower.

She almost said ‘Wart’, nervous as she still was, but barely managed to stammer out an ‘Arty’ instead.

It wasn’t ‘Arturia’ like she would have liked, but at least it was better than ‘Wart’…

“Short for something?” the woman asked, and Arturia had to learn how to talk again after seeing her snowy hair catch the lights  _just right_  in that brief second. 

“You could say that,” she breathed, all too aware of how easy it would be to just recklessly close the distance between them, and…and what?

“W-What is  _your_  name, i-if you don’t mind me asking?”

_Get it together. Stop stuttering._

“Iri,” came the response, and the woman— _Iri_ , her mind corrected—pulled back to smirk at her once more. “It’s short for something, too.”

The hammering of her heart nearly drowned out the music, and Arturia swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat for the second time that night. 

“And that’s enough for now…isn’t it?”

Iri’s breathless giggle was enough of an answer, combined with the broad smile Arturia had first seen on her.

_What is wrong with me…?_

_“Here we go, just lose control and let your body give in,  
“To the beat of your heart as my hand touches your skin.”_

A switch must have flipped inside somewhere, for Arturia found herself  _finally_ matching Iri’s dancing as the music swelled again. For the first time that night, she let go of her inhibitions—stiffness giving way to the fluidity she had been missing all along as she moved without care to the world.

No Pendragons. No corporations. No Excalibur. No well-intentioned, red-headed oafs.  No statuses…

_“Is this love, or…just sexual desire?”_

…Just Iri smiling and laughing in front of her as they made fools of themselves on the dancefloor.

_“We’re gonna start a fire!”_

And Arturia found that she couldn’t give a damn how silly they must have looked.

* * *

She wasn’t sure  _when_  it started, or  _who_  made the first move. All Arturia knew was that she desperately needed whatever drink Iri had chosen back at the bar, for Iri tasted sweeter than anything she’d ever had before.

There was another small tug on her tie, and Arturia surged forward, their teeth clacking together in her haste. Her hands threaded further into silken strands of snow-white hair, and the smile curving against her own mouth led her to distantly conclude that perhaps it was Iri who had initiated the first kiss.

That certainly made sense, didn’t it?

The woman in question pulled back, chest heaving as she giggled breathlessly before bumping their noses together. Her lips quirked into a goofy smile; one that must have matched Arturia’s if the ache in the blonde’s cheeks were of any indication. “You haven’t kissed much before, have you?” Iri asked lightly, not patronizing or filled with pity in the least.

Still, Arturia found herself averting her gaze in shame, her already-flushed cheeks burning even brighter. “No, not…not really. There was a boy in my teenage years. We grew up together and…wanted to see what the fuss was about.” She paused as a certain face flashed through her mind—long, wavy brown hair, and a smile that hardly ever reached equally-brown eyes.

_Oh…I nearly forgot._

“There was…a girl, too. Beginning of college,” Arturia continued as Iri took advantage of the momentary lull to gently press her against the club’s wall again. Behind them, patrons continued to dance, and Arturia distantly wondered what became of Alexander after her impromptu flight earlier—she hadn’t seen him when they had stopped by the bar.

The thought vanished as past regrets clawed their way up her spine, causing her hands to tremble as she lowered them from Iri’s hair to her shoulders.

_I wish that had stayed forgotten._

“We only kissed once…but there was little affection on her part. One year later, we were done for good. It was nothing more than our families attempting a match, and…I suppose for her, she was tired of keeping up a façade.”

Iri lowered her head, burying her face into Arturia’s shoulder. “Did you fall for her?”

A wry chuckle passed through her lips, and briefly, she was ‘Arturia’ again. Not ‘Wart’, or even ‘Arty’. “Perhaps, given more time…I might have. She was certainly very beautiful and kind to her peers. Diligent in her studies, and excelling in certain social graces that I severely lacked.”

_That I still do, in fact._

Perhaps it was the drinks they had, or the club’s atmosphere, or the secret comfort anonymity provided to her that allowed Arturia to share such a thing, however vague. Her hands shifted down to settle on Iri’s lower back, to safer ground as the air between them grew a little more intimate. She was all too aware of how close their bodies actually were.

Iri sighed, her warm breath tickling the side of Arturia’s neck as she pulled away just enough for their gazes to meet again. Her eyes were softer, crinkling at the edges as she managed a small smile. “Well, regardless of your past misfortunes in the field…you’re a fast learner, Arty.”

And perhaps ‘Wart’ truly  _was_  learning, after all.

She leaned forward, planting a brief kiss on Iri’s lips. “As they say…third time’s the charm,” the blonde murmured, secretly pleased that she hadn’t missed.

_I sincerely hope that sounded as smooth as it did in my head…_

Iri giggled, smile growing as those crimson eyes regarded her with a degree of affection Arturia hadn’t thought possible. Pale hands toyed with her loosened tie before moving to settle on her shoulders. The smile suddenly faltered, growing wistful, and Arturia immediately wished to see it banished from Iri’s face.

“What’s wrong?” she couldn’t help but blurt out, wholly ungraceful. Too many walls had been lowered already, whether by drink or Iri’s infectious mood—she honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she foolishly ended up suggesting they meet again some other time.

But to do so would mean risking her true identity. After all, this one night she agreed to partake in was already nothing more than a means to relax, to give in, and… _not_  be ‘Arturia Pendragon’ for once. To leave her life behind for a moment, and enjoy the night with others of a like mind.

Iri shook her head gently, a quiet laugh falling from her lips. “We’ll never see each other again after tonight…will we?”

It was a fact.

It was a given.

Ever since they first exchanged names, it was obvious this would be how their story ended.

Arturia nodded, and her throat felt tight for some odd reason. Perhaps it was because of how hollow Iri’s laugh had sounded; the sadness in her voice that seemed so at odds with her energy and radiance earlier on the dancefloor, and their brief stop at the bar. She shifted one hand up the woman’s back, threading through snowy strands to rest upon the nape of her neck.

She was ‘Wart’; unsure of how to proceed from there.

For what comfort could she offer now? What words would be most suitable for a question like that? Another kiss would make it harder to let go, she realized, but she was already so  _familiar_  with Iri’s sweetness, and highly doubted their last kiss would come so soon.

Her hand shook as she forcefully shoved a thought too dangerous to consider to the back of her mind.

“Just for tonight…let’s pretend,” Iri murmured, leaning in close so their noses brushed and her breath ghosted over Arturia’s lips. “Let’s pretend that we’re just…’Iri’ and ‘Arty’. For this one night only…can we make it ours? To enjoy these fleeting moments of happiness as best as we can?”

Her fingers twitched against silk as she swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Are…Are you happy, Iri?”

Arturia hoped she would say yes.

And for a moment, Iri said nothing; merely favored her with an affectionate gaze and a soft smile.

“I am. Even though we’ve only just met, right now, with you…I’m the happiest I’ve been for a while,” she whispered into the scant space between them. “Now tell me, Arty…are you?”

And that was the real question, wasn’t it?

For in this moment, stolen away from the masses, away from eyes that would remember…nothing else seemed to matter beyond Iri’s petite form in her arms, beautifully framed by the lights. Of the delicate hand brushing the curve of Arturia’s jaw to cup her cheek. Of the other hand trailing up her other side until Iri was holding her face, fingers curling ever so slightly against her skin.

And Arturia’s heart ached in the best of ways.

“I am,” she confessed, barely a whisper as their lips brushed. “With you, right now…I am.”

Arturia would allow herself this moment, this night. 

They kissed again.

Again.

_Again._

And Arturia found herself swallowed up in Iri’s sweetness, nearly drunk off her presence as they laughed and nuzzled like two lovers for the first time.

_No, I…I can’t,_  she thought as Iri led her out of the club, claiming it was far too hot inside.  _I can’t…use that word. I can’t think of her like that._

The cool night air greeted them, but it did nothing to chill Arturia’s heated skin as she pressed a giggling Iri against the nearest car, covering her mouth with her own. She wondered if it was all right; if this was okay for her to do. Her hands pressed against the car’s side, unsure of where to place them, and she faintly registered it was Alexander’s horrible truck she was kissing Iri against.

Oh, that wouldn’t do at all.

“Something wrong?” Iri asked breathlessly when Arturia pulled back to glare at the rusty deathtrap. Pale hands continued to cup her face, thumbs brushing over the blonde’s flushed cheeks.

“This vehicle…it belongs to my friend.” If a man who interfered in her personal matters  _far_  too often could be called as such. “I…It’s not in the best shape, I’m sorry. We should probably—“

“It’s fine, Arty,” Iri laughed, pulling her close so their foreheads rested against each other’s. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you certain?” Arturia asked, brow furrowing as emerald eyes searched the crimson pools before her for any sign of doubt.

There was none.

Instead, Iri merely laughed once more, tilting her head so she could bump her nose against Arturia’s playfully. “I think this has less to do with my sake, and more to do with your dislike for it.”

“I-I don’t—“

“Don’t bother denying it; I think it looks pretty horrid, too,” the snowy-haired woman cut in, lips slightly swollen from their many kisses curling into a smile. “But it’s your friend’s truck, and I’m assuming you came here with them, right?” 

Arturia blinked, not entirely sure where Iri was going with this. “Yes.”

That smile grew—so warm and bright, that the blonde found herself naturally matching it. “Well…if it wasn’t for this truck, you wouldn’t be here. And if you weren’t here…”

“…I would never have met you,” Arturia completed with an almost reverent whisper.

Her heart clenched once more.

_…Don’t._

Iri laughed again, and she found herself thanking the powers that be for allowing her the honor of being its cause. Crimson eyes gazed into her own; so soft, so kind, so inviting…

_Don’t even think about it._

“It led us to each other. And for that reason alone, I don’t mind its presence for a little bit more.”

“…Must you go so soon?” Arturia murmured in response, a small surge of panic racing up her spine at the thought of parting from the stunning woman before her. It was inevitable, but no less unpleasant.

A wistful smile crossed her face once more, and the blonde had half a mind to kiss it away. “I didn’t exactly have permission to go out tonight. Call it a whim, I guess. No doubt my absence has been noted already…”

Arturia’s hands moved to thread through Iri’s snowy hair, as if she could anchor this moment for longer. Just a little longer.

“I…”

_Don’t you dare—_

“I want to court you, Iri,” Arturia quietly confessed, giving voice to one of the most dangerous thoughts she’d had in recent times.

It reared up from where she had forcefully banished it to the back of her mind earlier, for after all…’Wart’ had never been good at suppressing desires as strong as this. There was the beginnings of  _something_  between them—that much had been made painfully obvious by now—and she wanted to explore it further, to learn everything she could about Iri, and see this path through. For if she were truly honest with herself…

It was more than a little frightening, thinking she could possibly never experience this sort of… _happiness_  again.

Perhaps in some ways, it had been a mistake to join Alexander tonight—her past experiences with his idea of ‘fun’ often fell into a similar vein, but that was beside the point—for if she had merely stayed home like originally planned…Well, she wouldn’t be in this damnable predicament now, would she?

Safe in her manor, Arturia could have simply continued on with her work—tirelessly ensuring the company would endure, rooting out whatever corruption persisted through its levels, and double-checking to ensure her secret management of the café hadn’t been traced back to her.

She wouldn’t have gone to the club, she wouldn’t have met Iri, and she most certainly wouldn’t have had a small taste of that certain brand of happiness which promised to endure well until her skin grew wrinkled with age.

For ever since she took on the family business, happiness had been so fleeting, so temporary, so  _difficult_  for her. Corporate work was constant; an ever-present reminder that if she so much as faltered even  _once_ now, the enemies she had made in reforming their company would pounce on the opportunity afforded to them. There was always the option of delegating a portion of her workload to those she could trust, but…

This was  _her_  burden to bear.  _Her_  decisions which had gained them enemies among the corrupt and the vile-hearted.

No more.

There would be no more repeats of the Camlann proposal.

She had lost too much from that. Far too much. It had been a  _miracle_  Arturia and Pendragon Corp had even been able to  _bounce back_  from that disaster.

It took a while before she could enjoy and relax again—even briefly—given how she threw herself into her work with even more ferocity than before. But Alexander was awfully insistent, she had to give him that. Perhaps that bull-headed stubbornness was what enticed her to make the first step towards  _not_  running herself into the ground with work.

And despite his aggravating offers for  _her_  to come work for  _him_ , to make use of his admittedly greater pool of resources…

He was a friend.

And he was right. 

She needed a night like this. Desperately.

But to attempt a  _relationship_  would be nothing but—

“Arty…?”

“I want to court you,” Arturia repeated, the words falling from her lips before she could stop them again. “If…you will have me, that is.”

She cursed herself with every word that she knew.

Crimson eyes widened in shock, and Arturia immediately withdrew her hands as if they were scalded by iron, staggering backwards to put some distance between herself and Iri.

Or, at least…that was the intended plan.

Instead, a hand grabbed at her tie just before she could move out of reach, yanking her close again for Iri to crash their mouths together in a bruising kiss. Their teeth clacked almost painfully against the other’s from the momentum; noses bumping, all the finesse that had been built up over the night thrown carelessly out the window.

When they parted a scant second later, it was Arturia’s turn to stare with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing in an excellent imitation of a fish as she struggled for words. This sort of verbal helplessness wasn’t new around Iri—she had learned that well by now—but it was…different this time.

She honestly had no idea how to save face in this situation. How to take back her foolish words, when they had been uttered with such genuine care—it was doubtful Iri could be convinced it had been in mere jest. For all the bantering, and… _flirting_  they had exchanged tonight, Arturia had confessed with heartbreaking honesty.

And looking into those ethereal eyes…she knew Iri was fully aware of her dilemma. Her lips still tingled from the evidence.

“Arty…you’re one of the sweetest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting,” Iri said, voice gentle and soft even as a sad smile found its way onto her beautiful features. The hand not holding onto the tie reached up to caress the blonde’s face, knuckles brushing along the curve of her jaw. “And while I would very much love for you to do so…I think we both know that wouldn’t be the best idea.”

Arturia’s cheeks colored in shame, and she ducked her head, hands curling into fists at her sides. “Forgive me, Iri. T-That was…unacceptably thoughtless of me.”

‘Wart’.

Stumbling along again.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” she heard Iri say, just as a finger tilted her chin up so emerald met crimson once more. The woman’s smile had turned more sheepish than sad, and Arturia was glad to see at least  _some_  of her sorrow banished away. “I’m at fault just as much as you.”

She arched a golden eyebrow, swallowing hard. “Oh?”

Iri nodded, a delicate thumb brushing near the corner of Arturia’s mouth. “I could have stopped the kisses sooner. Or perhaps I shouldn’t have even kissed you in the first place. Though I very much enjoyed them, so I’m finding it difficult to be sorry about that…”

Despite their situation, despite the superficial rejection…a smile of her own curled onto Arturia’s lips, though it didn’t contain the same sheepishness in Iri’s.

The woman in question noticed, of course. “What?” she asked, though it came as more of a huff, especially with her adorable pout.

“I had my suspicions,” Arturia began as she reached a hand up to cover Iri’s, “but now I see I was right: you  _did_  kiss me first.”

The snowy-haired angel before her giggled, crimson eyes crinkling at the corners. “Could you blame me? You looked absolutely dashing, even if you  _did_  look a bit lost. If I didn’t do it for you—“

The sound of a phone vibrating cut off whatever she was going to say next. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t come from Iri’s pocket, but rather, Arturia’s. Iri withdrew her hands as the blonde fumbled for the device, looking down at the screen to see the name ‘Alexander Brankovich’, along with a picture of him making a ridiculous face at the camera for his icon. She swiped at the screen to accept the call, holding the phone up to her ear and preparing herself for the—

“Ohoho! Arty, Arty, my good man! Er,  _wo_ man! Where the hell did your classy ass go?!” the redhead boomed, his laughter easily just as loud. Arturia had to hold the phone away for a moment to avoid potentially damaging her ear with his volume.

“Alex, are you drunk?” she sighed, taking a step back so she could rub at her temples with her free hand. There was a brief silence on the other end, broken only by the club’s music. Judging by the acoustics, it sounded as if he were in the bathroom, or some other room away from the club’s main area.

“…No.”

His voice wasn’t quite as loud as before, but still audible if Iri’s giggling was of any indication. Arty couldn’t help but smile at her.

“OOOOHHHHHH! Arty, what was that?! What was  _thaaaaattt?!_ ” Alexander bellowed excitedly, and she had to hold the phone away once more. “A girl! That sounded like a girl, classy ass!”

“Your fixation on my behind is not appreciated, regardless of your inebriated state,” Arturia dryly remarked. “I’d prefer ‘Arty’ if that’s the case.”

“You’re sounding like a stiff again! A stiff! You swore you’d relax tonight, you knightly dog!” Then, in a horrible stage whisper, “Or am I interrupting something? Is that it?”

Arturia glanced at Iri, an apology in her eyes and ready on her lips, but the snowy-haired woman merely giggled again, eyes twinkling. “You’re not interrupting anything,” she said, loud enough for Alexander to hear, “Though now that you mention it, she  _does_  have a rather fine—“

“We are  _not_  having this conversation right now,” Arturia all but whined, hand over the phone’s speaker as she furrowed her brow, staring pleadingly at the woman before her. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks again, even as Iri leaned forward, pressing a brief but placating kiss to her lips.

“It’s true, though,” she said with a wink.

And Arturia could only stare, her cheeks aflame at the sudden revelation of her posterior’s worth. Alexander had apparently continued talking, for she could feel the vibration of the sound on her palm. She took her hand away just in time to catch the tail end of a rather lewd suggestion.

“Alexander, where  _are_  you?” the blonde hissed furiously, turning away from Iri—she didn’t dare look the other woman in the eye after hearing her friend’s words. “We’re going home  _right now_.”

“But Arty, your lady friend—“

She nearly jumped at the sudden touch on her shoulder, still on edge from Alexander’s words. Turning her head, Arturia was wholly unprepared for the searing kiss Iri pulled her into, nearly dropping her phone in surprise. Her eyes slid closed as she pressed back, savoring each second of contact, for she knew that this was  _truly_  the last they would share tonight.

“Oi, Arty? Arty, are you still there?”

And Iri still tasted just as sweet as their first.

They parted too soon for Arturia’s liking, and Iri’s hand lingered on her cheek, crimson gaze softening.

“Don’t look so sad, Arty.”

Words died before they could ever leave her throat. Nothing seemed to be enough, to convey the tightening in her chest and the tingling in her fingers. So she did the only thing she could do:  

Arturia pulled her into a tight hug, burying her face into Iri’s silken hair as the scent of winter and pine filled her nose. Her heart ached, pounding fists against its bony cage and crying out for the woman in her arms. Iri hugged her back just as desperately, hands digging into her back with a silent  _‘stay stay stay sta—‘_

“I don’t think you’ll ever be far from my thoughts,” Arturia whispered hoarsely. Alexander might have still been talking in the background. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that the woman before her had changed something inside, something that not even Alexander or Gawain or Bedivere or Diarmuid could touch.

Guinevere had come close. And since then, Arturia had shoved that something to the depths of her being.

This was mutual affection, this was budding love, this was the threshold of _something—_

“Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll meet again,” Iri breathed, pulling away with a smile as she gave Arturia’s hands a squeeze, “Hopefully under better circumstances.”

—and they were turning their backs.

The blonde smiled tightly at such wishful thinking, but couldn’t deny the similar wish seating itself in her heart. “Hopefully,” she echoed with as steady of a voice as she could muster.

One of them had to be strong.

So she shoved ‘Wart’ back to the depths, and donned ‘Arturia Pendragon’ once more, gently slipping her hands out of Iri’s with the bitter tang of finality welling up in her throat. Alexander was indeed still thundering along over the phone, and she held the device back up to her ear as the final nail rammed into the proverbial coffin.

Arturia Pendragon watched as the snowy-haired angel turned and departed into the night, only half-listening to her friend’s conversation. 

* * *

“Sir Lucan, do inform Mr. Brankovich’s personal assistant that his superior will be spending the night at the Pendragon residence.”

“Of course, Miss.” Her butler matched her clipped tone with one of his own, bowing at the waist. “What reason shall I give, to whomever it may concern?”

Arturia adjusted her grip on the giant draped over her shoulders, cursing quietly under her breath as Alexander’s foot snagged briefly on the front steps. The redhead slurred something in her ear as she finally crossed the manor’s threshold.

“Inebriation,” the CEO growled, all but shoving him into the arms of Sir Bedivere, who had stayed up with Lucan at this ungodly hour to greet her upon her return. The silver-haired man stumbled a bit from the unexpected weight dumped into his care, and scrambled to keep the head of the Brankovich Conglomerate from falling to the floor.

“I have already…dispatched security to scour the vicinity…for any sign of the media, Miss Pendragon,” Bedivere grunted as he finally managed to get Alexander in a position that would make transporting him easy. “Should I situate Mr. Brankovich in his usual room, then?”

“Yes. Make sure to leave him plenty of water for the morning, and some aspirin,” Arturia commanded, brusquely crossing the length of the grand foyer to one of the twin staircases. “I will be in my study if you have any further need of me.”

She didn’t need to look back to see the frowns adorning their faces. She felt it in their stares.

Left to her own devices once more, Arturia continued her work well into the rest of the night, only placing her papers and pen back down on her desk when the first rays of sun began creeping through a crack in the curtains. She rubbed at her aching temples—more out of fatigue than as a side effect from her drinking hours before.

In the stillness of dawn, snow-white hair and crimson eyes flashed through her sleep-deprived mind.

The young CEO promptly shut her eyes, banishing the image—and with it, the twisting of her heart—away to the back of her mind for later. There would be time to mourn, to grieve over the shortness of their time together, but with the wound of Iri’s absence still fresh on Arturia’s heart, she could not afford to have it impact the last stages of her paperwork right now. Not when she was so  _close_  to finishing.

For the sooner she finished…the sooner she could dedicate a day to indulging in her worst habits in order to move on.

Emptying the kitchens of food and generally being as unproductive as Alexander…If all went according to plan and the grief purged from her system, her mind should be clear enough by the time the deal’s deadline arrived.

Nodding to herself at such a foolproof plan, Arturia leaned back in her chair, hands folded across her stomach as exhaustion finally caught up to her…

* * *

_She had ridden for days, fending off bandits and the like on her journey. She had come across some fellow knights as well, and had accepted their challenges to honorable combat. Worthy opponents they may have been, but they were ultimately no match for Excalibur. Fighting them had not been a complete waste, however, for they had informed her that her destination was close at hand._

_And through a break in the trees, Arturia at last saw what she had been looking for: a lone tower atop a modest hill._

_Her lips quirked into a tired smile, and she urged her horse into a full gallop down the dirt path they were already taking, making sure to keep the tower in her peripheral at all times. The path curved, and that smile grew when they finally cleared the trees to reach open grass. She pulled back on the reins, slowing her horse down to a canter, then a slow trot._

_Arturia lifted her gaze to the top of the tower as her steed stopped within sight of the lone window above. The weariness in her bones from her long journey dissipated almost immediately at the sight of the woman sitting there, her snowy hair radiant beneath the sun._

_“My knight!” Iri giggled from above, matching the broad smile on Arturia’s face._

* * *

She jerked awake, emerald eyes widening in alarm at the events of her dream. 

A different pair of red eyes stared back at her, belonging to a heavily-muscled man in a white T-shirt, reclining in a chair opposite of her. His tanned face looked unusually serious; fiery brow knitting together as he frowned.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up,” Alexander rumbled, crossing his massive arms as that frown deepened. “You missed breakfast. You  _never_  miss breakfast.”

Arturia sighed heavily, shifting in her seat and working out a crick in her neck. “I’m more surprised you managed to stay quiet long enough for me to wake on my own…Shouldn’t you have left by now?”

“Mithrenes can hold the fort down a while longer,” he said with a dismissive shrug. A gleam appeared in his eye just then, sending goosebumps creeping up the blonde’s arms. “Let’s talk about you first, Arturia.”

She squared her shoulders, matching his frown. “What is there to talk about?”

“Have you touched your cheeks yet?” the redhead answered with a question of his own, voice strangely quiet.

Arturia furrowed her brow at the odd request, but reached a hand up nonetheless…and found the remains of dried tears. Her other hand curled into a fist against her knee, and the bitter taste of loathing settled itself on her tongue at such a weak display.

_Record time._

“She must’ve been quite a woman to leave such an impression on you,” Alexander chuckled wryly, shaking his fiery head.

“What if it was about Camlann? Or Guinevere and Lancelot?” Arturia countered, frown curling into a scowl instead as she leaned forward in her chair. Before her, the giant scoffed.

“The fact that you even have to ask that means I’m right.” He arched a bushy brow. “Well? Hop to it, King of Knights! The sooner you tell me all of the juicy details, the sooner I can track her down, seeing as you won’t have the stones to do it yourself.”

Arturia’s cheeks colored, and she immediately stood up, slapping her palms on her desk as she shouted, “You will do no such thing! That is an invasion of her _privacy!_ ”

“And what? Just watch as my friend mopes around and runs herself into the ground again in an effort to forget?” Alexander thundered back, rising to his feet as well. “You always do this! Indulge yourself for once!”

Her eyes narrowed as she snarled, “For your information, I  _did_. Last night! And that’s the closest I’m allowing myself,  _Brankovich!_ ”

“Well it seems to me like not much action happened then,  _Pendragon!_  What did you do, eh? Hold hands the whole night? Stare dreamily at each other like a bunch of schoolgirls? Hah!”

“Believe it or not, we shared more kisses than you’ve ever received in your sorry life!”

“’ _My_  sorry life’? Look who’s talking! You can’t even land a lay to save your—“

_“Iri deserves more than a damn one night stand, and so do I!”_

Silence.

Complete and utter  _silence_.

Arturia’s eyes widened at her folly.

_Damn this man. Damn him to the deepest pits of—_

Alexander grinned, all traces of his furious façade gone, and she knew all was doomed.

“So…’Iri’, huh?”

 

 


End file.
